Wanderer
by BadOrange
Summary: A pocket full of coin and a brotherhood of thieves, Eve was finally taking revenge on the Imperials that had forced her head against the block. Except until she met the most stubborn of Nord's, a man who seriously had a stick up his ass and was probably the only one capable of exacting the revenge she had so long since desired.
1. Chapter 1

**Wanderer**

**Chapter One**

_Hi guys! I've been working on something new whilst continuing to write My Love and since I love Argis and Eve so much I ended up writing a little something that preludes both My Thane and My Love (OTP 4 LYF). I wanted to flesh out their relationship, discover more of Eve's past and re-live some of the events that happened at the beginning of Argis' and Eve's journey. _

_Wanderer is set a few years before My Thane and My Love. _

_Weeks after Bran's death Eve finds herself at the mountains. Dragons? Talking dragons? Were these old men serious? Why on Nirn was she expected to save Skyrim, why was it solely down to her? She was the drunkard, the wanderer with a past shut away, besides she wasn't even getting paid. No-one would outright walk to their death without getting paid first._

X

The doors to Understone Keep swung open, thudding against their adjacent walls and thundering an echo throughout the Jarl's Dwarven fortress. The guards fell to attention, a woman with large brown eyes and blonde hair and a man with wrinkles around his sunken blue ones with grey hair just visible beneath his helmet watched her cautiously. They both eyed the visitor that strolled through the hall. Blood splattered greaves and a dripping sword in one hand, Eve was the portrait of a warrior, or so she thought. She merrily hummed a tune to herself, sheathing her weapon and quickly wiping herself down. _One must always look presentable_ she thought to herself.

Her boots echoed off the stone floor, her presence known before she had even tried to be silent. She was the Dragonborn after all and her face was famous. Servants scurried along in front of her, cleaning and dusting and making the rubble of the fortress a little sightlier. This place was falling apart, it was dust and mechanical whirring and there was something deeply unsettling about the whole Dwarven business. In fact the entirety of Markarth oozed with mystery and with the animosity of the ancients. Or maybe that was just the unwelcoming people.

She'd buy the house and move on like she had done with the other holds. She was rich and she needed ways to spend the coin that filled her purse. Buying houses was the sure way to go. Shame it was always a pain in the ass talking to the rich-ass bigots that sat happily on their throne barely doing anything for the people of their hold. Jarl Igmund was no different and Eve tried her best to keep conversations short and nonchalant, any talk of the war and she'd sever his throat in a second. He was a supporter of the Imperials and Eve was full of disdain towards that, and it clearly showed.

She wondered if everyone in this stony hell hole felt the same as the Jarl. She hoped they didn't or there wouldn't be any hope for the Reach when she joined Ulfric's legions. The thought excited her, one last task and she could hike to Windhelm and sign up and finally find a purpose and take revenge. She hoped he would take one look at her and accept her, a scrawny little brat that was thirsty for blood and gold. She'd be the best damn fighter the Stormcloaks ever saw, and the bonus was she'd get to see Ralof again and get to thank him properly for saving her ass during their execution.

The coals burned viciously, the fires licking up the old walls with smoke billowing out and causing her path to be obscured by its presence. Eve took two steps at a time, chatter abundant ahead. Dwarven machinery littered the walls and the pillars, the familiar gold and alien-like mechanics still as creepy as always.

Faleen the Jarl's Housecarl, a Redguard woman adorned in finely polished steel armour was stood in her usual spot next to the Mournful throne. Jarl Igmund slouched with one arm bent and his head resting on its palm, his eyes closing as the day's events of being Jarl and sitting on his ass, took hold. Eve was glad she had gotten to him before he decided to waddle off to bed in his expensive robes.

The Jarl's Housecarl eyed her suspiciously as she approached the throne; the Jarl turned his attention to her and shifted from his slouched position. He was obviously put off by the blood that coated her armour with the slight disgusted look plastered on his face. Eve ignored it, clearing her throat and hoping, in silence, that this was the last job that she would have to do to appease the son of a bitch.

"I've helped your people as you asked," Eve said clearly, hiding any trace of annoyance from her voice. Being put in prison and fighting her way out with the Forsworn had been the last straw, if there was anything more to do then she would damn well forget about Markarth and move on to some other city. The only bonus had been getting paid and getting a chance to improve on her skills.

He lifted his head up from his palm and leaned back against his throne, the circlet on his balding head slipping down to his eyebrows.

"Then by my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of the Reach. Congratulations." It didn't feel like congratulations, in fact he looked damn right unhappy that he had just declared her such. Eve avoided a pout, what was she supposed to get a hug and thanks for saving the Reach? Yeah would have been nice.

"I grant you a personal Housecarl," He continued, "To watch over your home and a weapon from my armoury to serve as your badge of office." She didn't need another weapon, or another Housecarl. In fact she didn't even want the home; it was just a store-house for all the random junk she had collected on her travels to Markarth and the shit she had picked up whilst trying to appease the Jarl. Eve didn't even know how she could carry all of it.

"I'll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble now," He said with a little chuckle. Even with words from the Jarl she was sure the guards would still throw her dirty looks and mutter about how she was still an outsider to Markarth, and good too. She didn't want them getting too soft when she decided to cause a little ruckus now and again.

Faleen appeared at her side holding in her hands a short one-handed axe. Eve looked at it, that was her prize? An axe? Eve took it off the Redguard with a sigh and resigned herself to thanking the Jarl and leaving. So she was Thane and now had an axe to show for it.

After buying her new house and handing over the gold it had cost, she left Understone Keep with a half-smile. Her pouch felt light and although it would be filled in no time Eve still had that sort of empty regret. _A house_ she thought, yes that what she had been here for in the first place, the damn house.

Eve navigated through the city, following the stream and crossing over the bridges she needed to before finding the large stone steps that lead up to her newly purchased home. Suddenly nervous that someone was already in there made Eve's palms sweat. She had been exactly the same with Lydia and with Iona in Honeyside. She hoped her new servant would remain as quiet and uninterested as the others had. That kind of attitude had worked so far. After all Eve didn't have friends, she had learnt the hard way that loved ones always got hurt and she would rather have none than let them get hurt.

She pushed her way through the heavy iron doors and let them slam behind her as she walked into Vlindrel Hall. In a strange way it felt homey, with the fires burning and the food in the pantry. As she kept walking she stepped into what seemed the largest room. It was adorned with one large oak table surrounded by oak chairs and cluttered with drink and an assortment of food. On one side of the room lay the fire place with a cooking pot and spit, food was already cooking and it smelt divine. On the other side lay doors to other rooms and Eve was eager to explore her newly purchased house.

With a grin she slipped her sword from her back and let it drop to the floor with a clatter. She undid the laces of her armour and peeled off each layer until she remained in her linen undershirt and small leather shorts she had cut out from a stolen pair of trousers. She left all of her stuff in a heap on the floor and shuffled about the house, peeking into each room.

One for Alchemy, not exactly her speciality but if she stayed here long enough she could always learn. Racks adorned the walls ready for her weapons and several wooden mannequins in the main room were ready to be clothed. The smell of food followed her around the house and her stomach let out a little growl. She didn't know how to cook and usually bought what she wanted at the time, but with something already cooking on the spit she felt rude.

Eve opened the one of the last two mysterious doors and found herself in heaven. The double bed was situated in the middle of the room with an ottoman at its feet. Wardrobes lined the walls and a chandelier sprouted from the ceiling, giving off a calming aura of pale orange. Belly forgotten, Eve flopped down onto the bed and rolled herself up in the duvet. This bed was perfect, was more than perfect and she was tempted to forgo the Stormcloak rebellion if it meant she could stay in this bed forever.

A bang of a door jolted Eve upright. She wiped her eyes quickly realising she had fallen asleep. She slipped quickly from the covers, reaching for her sword before remembering she had left it out near the hall. She cussed and crept towards the door, opening it up only the slightest amount and peeping through the gap.

A chair creaked and she caught the silhouette of the intruder. Long blondish hair hung to his broad shoulders, a sword lay on the table with a shield at his heel. His armour groaned as he moved, pouring himself a drink and smacking his lips together in satisfaction. The nerves Eve had felt before returned in full force and her hunger turned to sickness and she pouted. He definitely had the build of a Nord, the hair colour for it. But those could be misleading, maybe if he turned his head and she could catch a glimpse and she'd see that he was secretly a flesh coloured Orc.

Catching her nerves Eve moved from her bedroom, purposefully slamming the door behind her so that her presence would be known. The man at the table held his drink in mid-air, pausing before slamming it down and before Eve could even speak he had grabbed the sword from the table and was holding it against her neck.

"Uh," Eve feared even swallowing, "Can you not." She muffled, staring from the blade to the man wielding it. Definitely a Nord, handsome too, but clearly a bit dim.

"Who are you?" He looked her up and down, jaw clenching and pupils dilating. Veins bulged at his biceps and his knuckles were blanched white as he clung to the blades hilt. Eve noticed the muscle underneath his armour, he was huge and Eve was dwarfed in front of him. She thought of all the things she could get away with him at her side, she'd be the best thief in the business, with houses full of jewels and gold. No enemy could stand a chance against him.

"I'm you new Thane," She said more clearly, trying to carefully move her neck away from the blades edge, only for the man to press it against her again. He really didn't believe her? She'd never had this much trouble with Lydia or Iona, then again it wasn't as if she had spooked them.

"Aye," He moved the blade from her neck and placed it back down on the table, probably to be sharpened later, "Long life to you Thane." He turned his back and Eve caught the glimpse of his broad shoulders again, admiring the way his armour fitted him. She was still too scrawny to fill out her armour and after recently favouring her guild armour she really did need to bulk up a bit more.

"No apologies that you almost cut my head off?" Eve watched him move to his chair, take a seat and pick up the cup of drink he had put down. She crossed her arms imperviously realising that she probably didn't look like any Thane he had seen before. She still was in her a smalls with a light blouse barely covering her and not exactly looking like the toughest warrior. But he didn't need to know that she had accidentally fallen asleep.

He turned his head, the light from the fire flickering against his face. He gave her a questioning look and she finally noticed the colour of his eyes; amber, "I don't like people who don't know how to look after their armour and weapons."

"I know how to look after my things!" She insisted, rising onto her tip-toes and seeing the heap near the entrance to the hall. Okay, sort of, but she had been itching to undress, to feel the freedom of her small clothes. And besides she had every right to do what she wanted, she owned the house and he had no right to judge her. Lydia and Iona hadn't uttered a word about her messiness so she was definitely not going to have any from him.

"Aye," He replied, words dripping with sarcasm, "If you need anything just call." He re-filled his tankard, brought it to his lips and took a large gulp of whatever he was drinking. Just watching him made Eve want to drink it too.

"Call who?" She mocked, "How do I call a man with no name?" She moved to a chair on the opposite side of the table. She sat down and watched him for a moment before pouring herself a drink. Eve licked her lips and felt the alcohol burn her throat as she accidentally drank too much.

"Argis," He scowled watching her splutter for air, "Argis the Bulwark."

"Nice to meet you," Eve croaked, clearing her throat several times before reaching for a pail of water to soothe the burn in her throat, "I'm Eve or Evelyn, whichever you prefer."

"No need my Thane," He didn't even look at her. Divines what was his problem? "I'll call you that and nothing else."

Eve made a little face at him before reaching for another drink, avoiding the ale completely. That stuff was strong, nothing she had ever had at any Inn she had stayed at on her journey. It was similar to what Brynjolf had given her that one night, well that one night she would not like to remember. Was Argis trying to poison her to get out of his oath or something, and why was he acting so cold? It wasn't as if she had done anything to him. Divines he didn't even know her and she wasn't even sure why it bothered her so much.

She frowned, staring into the bottom of her tankard at the swirling liquid inside it. She glanced at him quickly catching the faintest of smiles curling at the corners of his lips. That was it. He was definitely trying to poison her.

The arrogant bastard probably didn't like serving a woman. Eve slammed her tankard on the table and reached for a loaf of bread, breaking it apart and stuffing one end in her mouth before she could accuse him of anything. So they had gotten off on the wrong foot, tomorrow would be better, or maybe she'd leave and never have to see him again. But that bed was calling her, the little slice of heaven in her very dark world, yes, that bed would keep her here and she'd have to deal with Argis' bad attitude for it.

He'd have to remember that he served her and not the other way around. She called the shots, and she had the right to boss him around in whatever way she wanted.

"Argis," She said through a mouthful of food.

"Yes, my Thane?" Again not even a glance in her direction, he stared at the pages of a book he had taken off the shelf a moment ago.

"Pick my armour off the floor and put it on one of the mannequins will ya?" She picked crumbs off the table with her index finger and popped each one into her mouth. A smile curled at her lips when she heard the annoyed little huff he made followed by the scratching of wood against stone.

He did what she asked without question and then moved back to his seat. Eve caught his glance briefly, mouthing a thank you. After that he went back to ignoring her, and Eve was persistent in her attempts to either annoy him or just get him to talk. No-one infuriated her like Argis did, his whole attitude made her angry, she didn't even know the guy and she was sure she was going to hate him or end up maiming him, either way it was less for her to be concerned about.

Later that evening Eve was mooching through the pantry, delighted over the amount of food that was on display but saddened at the fact most of it had to be cooked. Hares were strung up by their feet above her head along with garlic and ginger. In baskets lay apples and oranges and other fruit that she used to grow on the farm when she was little. She picked up an apple, one that was a delicious looking red and rubbed it against her shirt before taking a bite out of it. Eve hadn't tasted anything this good since she had resided in the cistern. Vekel was a great cook and Divines she would miss it.

Searching through baskets she put together an assortment of vegetables and untied one of the hares from their perch, she stuffed it all into a basket and carried it to the stove with an apple still in her mouth. Argis could cook for himself; he deserved that after his bad attitude. Besides she was sure her cooking would likely poison him or worse and she'd rather not deal with a sick Nord as well having to deal with his awful mood.

Eve rolled up her sleeves and tucked the ends of her linen shirt into her leather shorts and tied them tightly. She curled her hair behind her ears before finding a little band to tie it up with. Then she started on the cooking, a sweat prickling on her brow almost immediately as she leaned over the stove to pour water and stock into the cooking pot.

After leaving home she hadn't really needed to cook for herself, when she was younger she got a hot meal at an Inn and when she was older, well she learned how to steal things. There was a part of her life where she hadn't needed to do anything but her job; the rest was obsolete in her mind, meals came easy and so did the men. Until she found him.

Eve wiped a knife she had swiped off the table on her shirt before using it to cut the vegetables she had taken from the pantry. Her dark past riddled with corruption and deceit, and yet he, Bran, was the never-ending light that had given her a reason to keep on breathing. Not that it mattered now, the light had been extinguished almost a year ago and she had slipped back into her old ways.

She threw all the chopped vegetables in the cook pot along with the skinned and diced hare. She also poured in some sort of sweet tasting mead for good measure. The outcome of the meal would be decided whenever she thought it looked cooked, an hour tops, she hoped.

Occasionally she stirred the mixture, the smell rising from it not exactly the nicest and definitely not as mouth-watering as the food she had smelt when she walked in. Clearly Argis had eaten all of that, leaving none for little old her.

"You're over-cooking the hare," The rumble of a man's voice made her jump.

"Divines, what the hell is your problem?" Eve almost shrieked, swinging the ladle in his direction. He caught it easily before it could collide with the side of his face. Quick reflexes, lots of muscles, a strong jaw line definitely a capable warrior...

"You're over-cooking the hare," He repeated handing her back the ladle. She took it with a scowl.

"And what's it to you? It's not your hare," She snarled, face burning and not really knowing why. She poured over the cooking pot and stared down at the bubbling brown liquid within. It really didn't look appetising at all.

"I bought it." Eve could still feel him next to her after a long pause. Did he plan on giving her cooking lessons or something? Or was he waiting for her to open her mouth so he could insult her again?

"Do you have to stand and watch me fail? You're making me nervous," Eve said quietly, shuffling away from his personal space but still being able to reach the stove.

"I didn't mean to my Thane," This time Argis moved away and instead slouched against the corner of the stove, watching her. Eve pouted into the cooking pot, so now he was interested in looking at her when her face was shiny from the sweat pouring from her forehead? Great. "You could have asked me to cook you something."

"I don't need someone to cook for me," Defences back up, Eve swirled the ladle in his direction again, and quick enough that he didn't even catch it. It bounced off his shoulder plate and onto the floor. She turned to him and glared up at the man at least half a foot taller than her, "I can cook," She punctuated every word with a growing stare, hoping it might force him to stop picking on her. Eve was tired of whatever game he was playing and thoroughly debating just getting her sweet ass out of Markarth and moving on to better prospects.

"Aye, by over-cooking the hare I bought," Eve caught onto the hint of playfulness in his voice. Her gaze softer she gave him a pout and moved to pour the disaster into a bowl to eat.

She moved to the table feeling Argis' gaze follow her but he remained slouching against the stove wall. Wasn't he getting all hot over there? Especially in his heavy iron armour, which Eve still admired. He did look great, there was no denying that and with his sudden change in attitude perhaps all wasn't wrong with the world.

With a little satisfied smile Eve picked up a loaf of bread and began breaking it apart. She moved each bread piece in the bowl until it was coated in the stew playing with her food more than she should have. But she couldn't deny that it wasn't exactly appealing and just looking at the lumpy brown concoction didn't really make her stomach growl, in fact it clenched in horror. Maybe that was why Argis was watching her.

Eve looked up. Yep, still looking and still wearing a fiendish little smile that twisted the corners of his lips. Idiot, she cursed herself, stop looking at him. But she couldn't help it and managed to take the first mouthful of the stew without acknowledging the taste. That little smile. Everything about that smile.

The light from the stove served to make him look even more attractive. Divines what was her problem? Eat the stew; forget about the man in front of you who clearly is only interested in making your life worse. He probably has a girl he is sweet on. Get a grip. The thought made Eve's stomach sink, disappointment already? What was there to be disappointed about? He was a man she could quite easily get into her bedroom if she tried, she was certain that it was possible but she wasn't going to cross that boundary. He was the Housecarl, she was the Thane he certainly had other uses to her other than keeping her bed warm.

Like all that muscle. Yes, that muscle. Argis was clearly a capable fighter and she would test out his abilities as soon as possible. Maybe she would even ask him on his standing on the war and make him tag along on her adventures. That would surely cure the incessant loneliness she felt on long adventures. Perhaps she could even make a friend out of him one day, give it some time let him adjust to her messy ways and hopefully things could progress from there. But no flirting, she insisted to herself. Definitely no flirting.

"Nice?" Argis' voice brought her from her reverie and she nodded in earnest, face red as the coals that burned in the stove. He didn't know of course, that she was thinking about him, innocently of course but Eve could see that changing if she didn't rail in her thoughts quick. She'd end up being strung up over his muscles and amber eyes in no time.

Argis wasn't her type. He was the opposite of what Bran was. But he was devilishly charming and she cursed Jarl Igmund for giving her this hunk of a man. _Eve stop_ she insisted to herself. She gobbled down the rest of the soup rarely chewing and avoided choking completely. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve gave Argis a look over and abandoned the room.

The bedroom was her safe haven.

Forget about him Eve and curl up and go to sleep. She repeated the words to herself like they were a divine mantra. Tomorrow was a different day and she'd deal with it completely differently. It would not be like today that was for certain. There would be no snide comments coming from Argis. There would be no teasing or blushing, instead Eve would show him the warrior that she was, the kind of warrior that she wanted to become. No flirting, no small talk, just business.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wanderer**

**Chapter Two**

Eve had forgotten how wonderful it was to be in the fresh air. Okay so the meal didn't exactly stay where it was supposed to and Argis had rubbed it in her face when he caught her throwing up her guts into the chamber pot. Clearly her violent retching had woke him up and he had to rush into her room and tell her exactly how he felt about the situation. Bastard.

Either way he left her to sleep out the illness and only came to bother her when she pleaded for crumbs of bread or some water. Apart from that she was shunned to the bedroom which wasn't exactly her heaven anymore, it was now stuffy, germy, and the prison for a woman who couldn't stop being ill. She was certain Argis liked having most of the house to himself again, the arrogant idiot.

And she was going to be so nice to him as well.

When the sickness subsided Eve felt the wind back in her sails and she escaped her chamber at first light. The morning air was bitterly cold and the breeze caused gooseflesh to rise along her forearms and over her chest. Even if it was damned cold, it felt great. More than great in fact for the briefest moment, life was perfect.

Markarth was silent except for the occasional patrolling guard and they remained impervious to her catcalls from the shadows. One bonus from walking out onto Vlindrel Hall's porch was that she got a great view of the city and she was high enough that she could see over the stone walls.

The sun crawled along the horizon, a slither of pale orange billowing over the mountaintops. The men at the stables were already awake and tending to the horses in their stalls. The dogs could be faintly heard over the chirping birds and the wind whistling through holes in the stone. There was something about Markarth that set her on edge, it was unwelcoming and was arrogantly cold. It was ancient and why the Forsworn even wanted this place was beyond her comprehension. Eve was eager to leave, eager to feel wood instead of stone. She wanted to see trees instead of buildings and feel the soil beneath her booted feet as she hunted animals for a meal.

Markarth was its own prison, full of corruption and debauchery. The Jarl didn't give a damn about the poor people living underneath the city in the rat hole next to the mill. Everything about the city was dark and secretly run by the Silver-bloods. The very bastards that had forced her to mine the ore when she had been arrested for finding out too much and coincidentally put in gaol. If she got her way she would be on the road to Windhelm willing to join the Stormcloak rebellion with Argis tagging along behind her as the beef and muscle on her crusade to take revenge on the Empire. She was almost getting agitated that it wasn't happening quick enough.

It had almost been a year since Bran's death and she had done nothing to avenge him. The Empire deserved to burn for what they did to her and what they did to him. Bran was innocent in everything, no matter what she had done to deserve what happened, Bran hadn't. Bran was dead because of her and the Empire, and she would have blood before they saw her coming, she'd have their heads for the chaos they caused.

She would have been dead too if it wasn't for the damn dragon storming Helgen just as her head was shoved against the block. It had to be fate. Ralof saved her ass during the chaos and during all of it she got to slaughter a few Imperials but it wasn't enough to sedate the blood-lust, she did have a voracious attitude. Up until now she hadn't crossed paths with another Empire loving soldier, not even on her journey to High Hrothgar to be tested by the Greybeards. Not even since her newly given title of Dragonborn did she even get to see one dressed in that horrible Imperial armour. It was almost as if they were actively avoiding her, knowing that the woman they had wanted to execute was supposedly going to be some kind of hero. Like Eve could ever be a hero. Not with her past, not with her empty shell and she would certainly not be responsible for a whole nations survival. To try and forget she had drunk herself into oblivion in Breezehome with Lydia buying her the mead she demanded.

Eve's skin crawled, as it always did when she was restless and blood thirsty. She craved to be out in the wilderness, doing something or anything that didn't have her sitting on her ass. It has always been her way, never staying in one place for too long, Bran had learnt that the hard way with her job and the contracts she needed to fulfil for her master. It meant she had to travel from one end of Skyrim to the other, North or South and across the border she never settled, she tried not to settle.

But Bran had always been the guy to try and get her to stay in one place for a little longer each time. His mercenary work with the Stormcloaks had meant he would have to move around, usually in the opposite direction to Eve and they were always separated for long periods of time.

Young and blood-thirsty Eve still found a home in his open arms; he welcomed her back no matter what happened. Somehow he understood her and accepted her for what she was. He didn't question her, her beliefs or why the hell she would give up her life for a monster. She had been young, relentless and greedy and Bran had changed that in her, or perhaps he had tried to. Eve still wanted the money, but she had dropped her past the second Bran had died. She had to move on, pick herself up and to try and make something of herself now that the light was gone.

Yes, Bran had been the light that woke her up every morning; it was the light that gave her the strength to bare another day and to keep on moving. He was the light of her future, the one permanent fixture that had been more constant than her parents ever had. Bran had been the beacon for her very dark life and now it was gone.

Eve's fingers gripped onto the stone wall in front of her as she looked over its edge. There was no use thinking of him now, not when he was just soil and dust and memories. There was no point in remembering all the times he called her love, or even remembering how he said her name in the softest voice imaginable. Evie, she had been his Evie, someone she could never be to anyone else. That person was lost now, both of them. Lost to time, lost to memories and Eve struggled, still, to put it all behind her.

However much she thought of another man she'd never feel anything in comparison to what she feels for Bran. That feeling could never be replaced or changed. It would be with her as a constant reminder, a burden or a blessing it didn't matter. When revenge was done Eve would be able to rest, she'd have the rest of her years to live a life that had no meaning. Time was permanent and it was the only thing she was waiting for now.

The doors of Vlindrel Hall thundered behind her and Eve let out a little shriek, spinning around and holding her fists up as some form of protection.

"Still scared of me huh?" Argis gave her a sheepish smile, her armour tightly locked beneath one arm and her blade held in his other.

"You're big okay," Eve turned quickly to face the sunrise again. However much she thought of Argis he would not replace Bran. Nothing ever would, "You could easily squash me."

"Are you feeling better?" He asked, ignoring her comment. It was the first time Argis had asked on her personal well-being and it put her on edge. Why ask now? What on Nirn was his motive? She couldn't help but be suspicious, she was feeling delicate, soft, her barriers were down and with one insult he could easily break her. Bran had always brought out that side of her, defenceless little Evie, who managed to get everyone she ever loved killed. Such was the story of her poor macabre life.

"Much," She tried to act cool, facing him again and casually leaning back against the stone wall she had been holding onto so tightly. She had the red marks on her palms to prove it, "I see you've got my armour, plan on taking me somewhere?"

"I thought you would need it on your travels my Thane," There was something about him calling her Thane that put her off. Did he have such a problem with calling her by her actual name? Or would he rather keep their relationship professional meaning no long chats into the night and definitely no playful nicknames? Not that she would want to give him one. Argis the Bulwark. That suited him just damn fine.

"I see," Eve gingerly took the armour from him and put it down against the stone wall. The sun was now a little orb peeking over the horizon spreading rays of light along the valleys of the hills and making the water of the river shine gloriously in the distance. The night sky was giving way to a welcoming blue, empty from clouds.

"Aye well I'll be back at home if you need me," Argis turned quickly on his heel, running broad fingers through his knotted mane of hair.

"Wait," He stopped in his tracks, looking back at her, "Follow me, I'll see how good your swing arm is."

Eve said it with a smile and he answered her with thus. He insisted that she waited for him whilst he went back into Vlindrel Hall to prepare a satchel for the journey. She'd see how good he was at fighting before taking him along to join the Stormcloak rebellion with her. If he had a problem with that, well, he could march his ass back to Markarth for all she cared. Company, she could live without, but nothing was changing her mind about joining the Stormcloaks. This was justice, the justice she had waited for, for almost a year. Bran could finally be at peace in his grave and Eve could feel the same knowing that their blood rested on her hands like so many goddamn others.

As Argis returned Eve had already dressed in her armour, tying one last knot before sliding her sword on her back. She looked up and Argis was watching her, amber eyes darker than she remembered. He attached the satchel to his side, checked over his armour and waited for Eve to get a move on with no question asking where they were going.

Perhaps she wouldn't even have to tell him. It wasn't as if he knew anything about her, he had no idea that she would be joining the rebellion, he had no idea that she had a dead lover or had no family or even planned on seeking revenge. Argis didn't know squat about her past and she wanted to keep it that way. Keep the defences up; never give away too much away. She had almost made that mistake when she had been in the Thieves Guild. Brynjolf always had a way of making her say and do things she didn't usually do. His silver tongue was an asset to the Guild but it was a curse to her. The bastard, it was his fault she had left in the first place. Her home, the only home she had found since Bran's death and her escape.

Divines she had been safe in the Cistern, none of them questioned her for being there. They just accepted her for who she was, or who they thought she was. Of course they knew nothing of her business with her master and only Brynjolf and Karliah knew of her dealings with Nocturnal, considering they were partaking in it too. Another deal, another split soul and not knowing where the hell she was going to end up in the afterlife.

She hoped she'd find Bran in the haze of the afterlife but she wasn't going to keep her hopes up too high. Eve didn't know where she was going to go, definitely not to Sovngarde since she had bartered with Daedric Princes. Wherever her soul was to go she wouldn't let it bother her whilst she was living and breathing. There were more important things to consider than where she was going drifting off to on her death bed. Death was still far away.

The old stone walls of Markarth were left in their wake as they trudged down past the stables towards the horizon. Eve had debated paying for a carriage to take her to Windhelm considering she had been ill and not knowing if she was strong enough to make the journey on foot. But one look at Argis and she settled for sharing the journey in his company. He looked in his element, the wind catching in his hair and his gruff determined expression with lips brought together in one grim line. Eve settled for thinking that he didn't like to shave, he had constant stubble lining his cheeks and down across his neck. Not like she was staring, it was more admiring and appreciating the view.

Besides, the journey on foot meant that Eve could find out how compatible they were, whether they would be bickering constantly or remaining in silence. She didn't want either but she wondered if Argis preferred it that way. Even with no talking she'd still get to see his swing arm, test how good he was and then admire him in battle.

"Something funny?" Eve looked up from her feet at him.

"What?" She curled her bangs around her ears.

"That smile, something I should know?" His eyebrows rose creating wrinkles on his forehead. He did look older than her and she wondered how much by, a few years? Surely not ten.

Eve made a scoffing sound and his expression switched to a frown. She immediately started fiddling with loose strands of leather on the front of her armour.

"I was just thinking!" She insisted innocently whilst feeling her face heat up. Argis had to know he was a good looking man, a muscular Nord, a strong jaw even the braids in his hair added to his attractiveness. And Eve, well, she was innocently admiring the view and if she was caught out then luck be damned.

"Aye," He checked the surrounding area quickly as they moved closer towards the river. The sounds of the birds were replaced by the crashing of the rushing water against the rocks on the river bed, "What about?"

The question caught her off guard. What was this? Argis actually making conversation? So he didn't exactly enjoy the silence either? Well Eve supposed that this was the start, first asking her how she was feeling and now asking her more questions. The beginnings of a blossoming friendship she was sure.

"You." She looked at him waiting for his reaction. Nothing but a slight twitch of his eyebrows. She almost thought he hadn't heard her with the noise of the waterfall thundering behind them.

"Oh?" He remained calm, "What about me?" He had been staring straight ahead but he now glanced at her, catching her gaze and smiling. Why was he in such a good mood?

"Your sword arm," Eve held his gaze for as long as she could stand it. Sweat prickled horribly on the back of her neck and her palms felt awfully clammy. If any beast attacked now she'd be helpless in defending herself. One cannot hold a sword properly with sweaty hands. Perhaps taking Argis along had been a bad idea.

"What about my sword arm?" He said the words in the same nonchalant tone. A little rough around the edges and certainly charming. Eve wondered if he was using that tone on purpose.

"If it's any good," This time she got the reaction she was waiting for. Argis let out a little growl, obviously offended and glared at her. Amber eyes caught fire, burning through her.

"I can certainly show you how good my sword arm is my Thane," He pronounced the words with such utter distaste that it made Eve smirk. Sensitive about his fighting skills. Okay, she'd remember that.

He caught the hilt of his sword and slid it off his back. He bounced it up and down in his fist before swinging it from side to side, cutting through the air.

"Give me something to kill and I'll show you just how good I am!"

The determined expression plastered on his face made Eve snort. He was acting so serious. She would give him plenty to kill on their journey. Eve was sure that not only would they come across the usual wildlife like wolves and bears but there would be the added trouble of dragons. On her journey to Markarth and whilst she helped the people of the Reach she had killed two of the damn blighters and most of the fight had been her running and hiding with the occasional hack and slash. Maybe with Argis at her side they would be able to deal with one of them without the hiding business, then again if Argis hadn't met a dragon before he might be as petrified as she had been seeing the black beast in Helgen.

She'd have to remember to ask him.

"What?" He was frowning again, his voice lower and harsher and Eve could imagine it was the voice he used when someone deserved a scolding. One day she'd get him to use that voice with her.

"I believe you," Eve spluttered through bouts of laughter, cheeks a rosy pink, "Argis the Bulwark defender of the Dragonborn! Let's hope you can keep me alive long enough to save the nation."

"I'll do more than just that," He retorted sharply, brows furrowed and his jaw set. His slid his sword back into place on his back and fell back into step with her. The thudding of their boots was silenced by the river. Salmon splashed up stream and Eve noticed a bear not too far away watching the fish, hidden in the shadows of a few bushes.

Dust rose up from her boots with each step, the soil dry from the lack of rain the Reach had gotten. Although in her younger year's Eve had lived in the south near the border to Cyrodiil sunny days with clear skies were still rare. The weather had always been overcast and most weeks it rained and if it didn't the air was still thick with moisture and heavy against the skin. Riften had been familiar in that sense; she didn't have to adjust to a different in climate. Eve had been planning on staying with the Thieves Guild longer than she had.

Argis towered over her and she watched the difference in their shadows as they continued walking. His arms stuck out against his sides from his armour and sheer amount of muscle. The width of his body was almost double the size of hers and she was scrawny walking next to him.

Eve directed them left heading north and passing the Khajiit Caverns, stopping for a brief moment to look at their wares. The mountains rose from the shores of the river and left the cobbled road in shadow. They trudged along the valley following the path of the river, crossing bridges and staying on the lookout for a Forsworn ambush. Eve was certain that after the mishap in the prison and her double-crossing they wanted her head on a pike. She couldn't blame them for wanting revenge; she had killed a fair few of them.

At night they took turns to sit on look-out, Eve too tired to pay attention to the rustling of leaves in the wind and the rushing river she dozed on her perch metres away from the tent Argis had constructed. He knew nothing about camping. The best part was lying awake underneath the stars not the canopy of a linen tent. The world felt incandescent in the light from the moon and stars, it was beautiful, a secret beauty only visible at night. And Argis was intent on not seeing it. He was really missing out.

Eve tapped her foot against the rock she had been sat on for the past hour or so. It was a continuous movement that she hoped would try and keep her awake. She gave an involuntary shiver as the wind picked up, rolling off the mountains to the east. She could smell the smoke of the dying fire and she had promised Argis to keep it burning but now she could barely bring herself to move. The moon was bright enough to light up the small clearing they had camped in. He had said something about how it was used to keep the nasty critters away and Eve had believed him but she had been fine whilst camping without one. Not having one tonight wasn't going to be problem, which was almost a guarantee.

There was something unique about watching the embers of the fire. The crackle of the wood and the shooting sparks that shot as the wood burned. The smell itself was glorious, rustic and natural, clouds of smoke billowing from the dying cinders. It was tranquil and the heat that it emitted was a blessing.

Eve tugged at the corners of the sheep skin blanket she had snuck out of the tent before Argis could see her do it. She wrapped it tightly around her and over her head until she could only see through a tiny letterbox with tiny tufts of fur encompassing it. Over the occasional hoot of an owl Eve got the pleasure of listening to Argis' snores, loud, throat rolling snores. It was loud enough to disrupt the equanimity of their surroundings but it did help to keep her awake.

By the Nine she didn't know how he could fall asleep so quickly. They took turns every hour or so, one keeping watch and the other having well deserved shut eye. Eve struggled to get to sleep at the best of times and she hadn't got one ounce of it tonight. Her shoulders drooped with tiredness and her eyes felt puffy and stung from being open too long. What she'd give to be curled up in the heaven bed back in Markarth; to feel the crisp sheets over her bare legs. But not wanting to be sick in it this time.

Her chin slumped against her chest. Pillows filled with duck feathers seemed an age away and it was almost impossible to imagine that nights previously she had drifted off into a divine sleep between those green sheets. The warmth she had been devoured in was a dream, long past and clutched onto with desperate fantasy. Eve nuzzled into the pillows, tucking herself deeper into the bed and pulling the blankets fully over her head. The darkness was impenetrable and she slipped further into sleep.

The dream morphed; the fireplace of Markarth crackled and spat. She could smell the smoke, feel its warmth. Hands ghosted over her shoulders, fingers with mud tucked deep into the nails. Sinewy hands sparked a sense of longing in the pit of Eve's stomach. Fixated to the spot she flailed against the force that held her in place. His arms brought hers around her, embracing herself, cradling herself like she was about to shatter. She shivered at the thought, the fire growing colder. His arms without the heat she so earnestly remembered.

_I'm lost_

His voice shook the base of her spine. It rumbled through her ribs echoing in her chest. It was his voice, Bran's voice. Eve cooed at the desperation he brought. She opened her mouth to reply but found her lips sealed shut.

_I'm trapped_

She clenched her teeth at the thought. Trapped where? She repeated the question as a mantra willing him to answer her, to read her thoughts to tell her.

_The shadows have me_

Fraught in her panic, Eve shifted through the force bearing down on her. She felt the weight of stones on her shoulders, her arms bearing the aches and pains of age. Her legs threatened to give way underneath the weight of Nirn resting upon them. Eve groaned against the pain, the growing sense of prickles rising over her arms, the numb sensation and then a thousand tiny needles biting into the skin all at once.

Rustling of grass brought her from slumber, stuck in a trance between sleep and reality. Tired still she kept her eyes firmly shut. Warm hands closed around her, tightening around her waist and around her shoulders. Lifted from her perch she was pressed against something firm, something deliriously warm. The sigh slipped from her lips before she could help it. Through the sheep skin blanket she tugged at his shirt, hands slipped between the laces and keenly felt the warm skin beneath.

Hot breath breezed along her forehead, sending chills spilling down her spine. She gripped tighter to his shirt, leaving her dream in the shadows of her thoughts. _Vaermina_, she breathed, _why torture me so_?

She heard the rustling of the tent wings and then the warmth was gone. She protested against his movements and clung tighter, snatching a tuft of linen in her fist and pulling him down with her. Tugging the sheep skin blanket around them both she shuffled into the nook between his arm and chest. A heavenly place and it was better than any expensive bed.

Eve felt the sigh he made, the defeated sound that made laughter rumble in her chest. _Bran, _She thought; _ever the romantic. _She curled against his body as his reluctance softened. He moved onto his side, bringing her closer, one arm curling in her hair and the other making circles on the small of her back.

She felt the rising and falling of his chest against hers; his heart thrumming fast against his rib cage. The scruff of unshaven chin scratched along her forehead as he moved, adjusting himself. He said something and she barely heard, falling against the sound of his breathing, against his beating heart. He was alive and tonight he was with her again.


End file.
